To Be Or Not To Be
by Sunflower96
Summary: When a simple diet turns to a deadly illness Russia begins to notice how differently America is acting. Will he be able to save the nation he despised or leave him in the hands of starvation? Eventual RusAme. Other pairings included. TRIGGER WARNING.
1. I Will Get Rid Of It

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia. All characters belong to their rightful owner, Hidekaz Himaruya.

* * *

"_**I will get rid of it. Every. Last. Bit."**_

The pain in his stomach was almost agonising as it was practically shouting at America to eat something. Using his hand to whack his stomach to stop the pain and the growling, "Stop it. I'm not hungry...stupid...fat...ugh..." He'd skipped breakfast again and it was now nearing 2:00, the conference meeting was at 2:15.

Alfred sighed. He hated feeling like this. The constant thoughts of disappointment and weakness as he couldn't even control his stomach from rumbling. But he couldn't give up...not now anyway. Not after all his hard work at controlling what he ate.

His diet had started when he was getting changed after having a shower, a really long shower. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, smiling slightly at how his hair was sticking on end, drops of water dripping from the thin strands. Then suddenly he was when he saw it. The fat. How it covered his body as if acting like a large piece of clothing. _Disgusting _clothing. How his thighs were _ginormous _and his stomach was bloated, giving himself ugly love-handles. His arms were _huge _and his face was podgy showing no signs of cheekbones at all. A feeling that Alfred had never thought would come to him was the feeling of self-hate. How he instantly hated himself, loathed himself for allowing his body to get so big. No wonder the others would snigger behind his back or call him names. How he finally realised why no one would ever compliment him.

Tears started to well up at the corner of his eyes, he bit his lip, hard. Glaring at his reflection making the image glare back, bright blue orbs shining into his soul. Alfred could feel them laughing now, all the nations. Sneering at him, smirking, laughing, joking about how much of fat, American pig he was.

Clenching his fists he decided he would at least go on a diet. To lose those few pounds...or maybe stones. "C'mon Alfred. You can lose weight! You're America! You can do this! We're gonna show the world what we can do!" He told the reflection in the mirror. Though he felt like crawling in a hole and not returning for a few hundred years.

But that was two weeks ago and Alfred had started to eat less and less. Limiting himself to only 2 small meals a day. He forced himself to eat fruit and vegetables for dinner and lunch, having no breakfast. It felt horrible, how he couldn't eat his favourite chocolate or drink what he wanted. Water was such a flavourless liquid...

He was walking down the long corridor when he felt a hand on his shoulder, "Alright, lad?" America looked down, his baby blue eyes meeting emerald green: England.

"Huh? O-oh, yeah. Yeah, good thanks. You?" The smaller nation frowned at this response, his hand falling back to his side as he used the other to brush his badly-tamed hair out of his eyes.

"I'm well, thank you for asking."

They continued walking in silence for a while until the Brit spoke again, "You sure you're okay? I mean, you're not acting...like your usual self?"

At this Alfred stopped and turned to face his 'father-figure.' He looked the smaller man up and down and felt a pang of jealousy. Arthur had always been short in height but his figure was lean and slender, having slightly curvy hips. Alfred had seen how England always hated the fact that a few nations, France in particular, would comment on how his figure was more feminine than manly, causing the British man to blush or hit the offender. But Alfred was jealous of that fact. Yes, he was taller and larger in height and in land size but America still envied the other which always made matters worse because he knew he shouldn't envy a friend let alone the man who raised him. Arthur was so _thin _and he was so _fat._

Lifting the corners of his mouth into a convincing smile he replied, "'Course I am, Arty! Just tired, you know me!" He made a nervous laugh, slinging his arm around Arthur's thin shoulders, instantly regretting the movement.

"Okay, if you're sure," England took a deep breath and looked his former colony in the eye, "but if anything is wrong you can talk to me about it...you know that, right lad?"

Alfred opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a loud rumbling sound that bounced off the narrow corridor.

"What was that?"

America chuckled, "'Maystomach! This baby is hungry, man!"

Arthur frowned, "...Did you have breakfast?"

"Yup! Wouldn't miss brekky! Best meal of the day!" He lied, "I'll probably get something else after the meeting or something!" God, how he hated lying to people...especially to Arthur. It wasn't in his nature to lie even though at times he was very good at it.

"Well alright then." Arthur replied looking a little happier, "I'll talk to you later then."

They entered the conference room where Arthur was greeted with kiss on the lips from Francis who was then punched lightly on the shoulder. Alfred smiled sadly and went over to take his seat. When everybody was seated, the meeting began and Alfred felt himself drift in and out of consciousness.

* * *

He managed to come back to reality when the meeting ended, thanking the fact that he didn't have to make a speech today. He took his time getting up and folding his papers away so that he was the only one left in the room. Standing up he immediately felt dizzy and had to grab hold of the table to steady himself, "Woah, Alfred, breathe. You're fine." He said to himself, breathing deeply but the spinning wouldn't stop. He thought he was going to collapse when a large hand gripped his shoulder.

"привет Amerika." The thick Russian accent greeted in his ear, "How are you? You seem very...uh...spaced out? Usually you are first one out of room."

"Russia? Since when were you here?" He squinted, pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. Noticing how the Russian seemed to have four eyes instead of two.

"I have been here since beginning, da? I watched you get up and that is when you nearly fell." He chuckled, seeing America so weak was quite amusing.

At this the Alfred's face grew hot. He shouldn't look so weak in front the stupid Russian. They were enemies after all. "I'm fine. Now, if you don't mind..." He tried to think of a good insult but it was too much energy. Instead he shook the man's hand off his shoulder and grasped his own head to control the spinning.

Ivan frowned, his eyes showing a hint of concern but he nodded anyway, "You look sick and-" Alfred's stomach rumbled for the third time that day, "What was that?" The violet eyes fell to the American's lower half.

"For God's Sake has anyone ever heard of a rumbling stomach?" He shouted loosing his patience, "I was gonna go get some food." He turned to move from his position when Russia caught his arm again, surprised at how thin it was. "What do you want now?"

"I come with you, da? I am hungry as well." He smiled that creepy smile of his, sending shivers up Alfred's spine.

"What?"

"You heard me, Amerikan. I get hungry as well."

"What? Ugh...fine. But we go where I want to go, alright?"

At this Russia grimaced, "I do not want fast food it's-"

"I know neither do I." America interrupted, glaring slightly. Ivan's eyes widened at the remark.

"Da...okay then."

They walked through the doors and down the corridor in silence. All that was heard was the tapping of footsteps on the floor and the occasional grumble of Alfred's stomach. At times the room would spin and Alfred had to keep squinting his eyes and grasping his head.

_Crap, I still feel faint. I hope I don't collapse, that would be really embarrassing. Russia would never let me live it down._

His stomach was aching and sending pains throughout his body. He thought he was going to topple over any minute. All the while, Ivan would turn his head slightly to see the pained expression on the other's face and how he wasn't walking in straight lines. How he would hit his stomach and curse under his breath. How he wasn't running to the elevator and out the door to his favourite fast-food place...It was odd, even for America. Normally he would never deny a meal at McDonald's...

It was when they were nearing the elevator did Ivan stop in his tracks, Alfred bumping into him, "Ow. Why'd you st-"

The Russian grabbed the smaller nation's shoulders, "Hey-!" And pushed him to the wall, "Oi, what are you doing! Let go you b...bastard!"

"Shut up, Amerika." Alfred continued to struggle, growling under his breath but soon stopped as the lack of nutrition wouldn't able him to put up a proper fight. Panting from the lack of oxygen he could noticed the tiny hairs on Ivan's chin, feeling the other's breath on his face mingling with his own.

Russia looked straight into his eyes, warning him to say anything else before studying his face.

The usually bright blue orbs looked tired and dull which were rimmed with grey circles underneath them; it was a sign that Alfred hadn't been sleeping well. He remembered the nights of the Cold War and how he couldn't sleep, it wasn't a nice feeling. Ivan noticed the way Alfred's cheeks weren't that usual pink colour, instead slightly concave giving his cheekbones a more defined appearance. He could feel the American's shoulders and how they weren't as broad but thinner and felt more...breakable. He studied his face for a little longer while Alfred stood frozen in place, staring wide eyed at the violet orbs.

"Russia..." Alfred breathed, "Let go now."

"Huh?" Blinking quickly and realising what he had been doing, he released the American at once. "Amerika. You do not look well."

Quickly glancing at the clock behind the taller man Alfred groaned, it was 4.00, he hadn't eaten all day, only having a sandwich the night before, "I'm fine! Sheesh, since when were you so concerning? C'mon, I thought you were hungry?" _Oh shit, the room's getting dizzy again..._

Russia nodded his head in a non-believing fashion, "Okay Alfred. Don't lie to me. You and I both know that something is wr-" He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the American's face pale. Using lightning fast reflexes that were unusual for the big boned nation, he caught Alfred before he fell to the floor, pulling him close to his chest. Heart pounding at the fact that he was holding a passed out America. Something felt wrong. There wasn't much to 'hold' of the other nation. He seemed smaller and a lot lighter.

Ivan's jaw tightened, he shouldn't be in this situation. They were enemies through and through, only having the occasional argument now and then but nothing like this. He should be laughing at how weak the other was. They had fought hundreds of wars between them, each waiting for a sign of weakness from the other but now, seeing America act so different and feeling so small, even though he hated to admit it, he didn't like it. He preferred the America who smiled and laughed even if those emotions weren't directed or caused by him.

_What is the matter with you Amerika...?_

привет - Hello

**_Please review! New chapter next week or so!_**


	2. Pain Is Good

"_**Pain Is Good..."**_

Alfred felt warm. Really warm. As if he were lying in a large heated bed, his head cradled by the softest pillows known to man. His body entangled with the security of safe, thick sheets, keeping him in the depths of sleep.

He breathed in and was suddenly overwhelmed with the strong scent of sunflowers, his mind imagining a field full of the yellow herb blowing gently in the wind. His mind's eye watching the birds glide down gracefully and pull the seeds out, flying off once again. He was relaxed, a feeling he hadn't felt in days.

The feeling of complete bliss was soon ruined when the all too familiar feeling came flooding back down, knocking Alfred back to reality.

His eyes widened as the pang hit his stomach, making him feel nauseous. The American groaned in pain, arms wrapping around his mid-section. His frown deepened when he still couldn't feel his rib-cage even after all this time.

_What time was it?_ He thought as realised that he wasn't in his own bed, let alone his own room. "Where the fuck am I?" He breathed.

Curious eyes glanced up and he noticed that his poster of Captain America wasn't stuck on the ceiling. His room didn't smell of its 'Alfredness' but of the same smells in his dreams; sunflowers and the faintest hint of vodka? Sitting up Alfred could feel that he still had his bomber jacket and trousers on. As the room started to spin Alfred squinted, the room turning fuzzy due to his lack of vision. Finding his glasses on one of the small bed-side tables which were accompanied by a vase of the flower in his dreams, Alfred placed the thin wires back onto his face, restoring his sight.

America's eyes widened at how...quaint the room was. The walls were a pale beige colour, the carpet being a soft shade of brown. A wardrobe and a chest of drawers in the two corners. it reminded Alfred of his own hotel room he was staying at. _Wait, what?_

As if on cue, the door in the corner of the small room opened, revealing a tall man wearing his usual large, soft brown coloured coat, his pale violet scarf encircled around his neck falling to his knees. He looked up, pale eyebrows rising at the American sitting up in his bed. "You are awake."

"It appears so," Alfred replied dryly, suddenly defensive at being in the same room with the Russian nation. It was bad enough nearly eating with him and he was lucky that he didn't. "What are you doing here?"

The Russian man sneered, "Don't act all smart you capitalist bastard, I am not the one who fainted in the corridor," He smirked at America's suddenly wide eyes, his own violet orbs darkening at the sight, "And I believe I have the right to be standing in my own room don't you agree, Amerikan?" The last word was emphasised with his thick accent, letting his tongue roll off the 'r'.

Alfred tensed, feeling embarrassed all of sudden, "Y-yeah right!" He laughed sarcastically, trying to cover up the nervous feeling that had suddenly washed over his body. He knew he had fainted but in front of Russia, it was just too humiliating.

"Why would I lie over something like that, little Amerikan?" Ivan walked over to the bed, "you know I would never lie to you..."

"Don't patronise me!" America glared, the spinning in his head stopping momentarily, "Hey, don't you dare come any closer!" He moved as far back as he could, until his back was against the wooden headboard.

"Of course," Ivan smiled. Stopping at the foot of the bed he questioned the glaring man, "How long are you going to be staying in my room?"

At the question, Alfred threw back the sheets swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, "Not a moment longer you bas-_._"

He was cut off when a large hand clasped over his throat. He fell backwards, forgetting how fast Russia could act at times. He was now pinned to the bed with the taller nation on top of him, smiling evilly. How dare that Communist touch him! America glared up at the other, teeth bared. He tried to pull the hand off of his throat by digging his nails into the pale hand.

"Is little Amerika too weak against Mother Russia?" Russia cooed mockingly, wincing ever so slightly as half moons were indented into his skin, drawing rims of blood. He chuckled darkly, showing his teeth as well.

Just like the Cold War. Both superpowers glaring daggers into the each other's faces, neither making a move that could draw pain physically but sure as hell emotionally. "I have missed our fights. It brings back...memories."

Alfred smirked, ruining the moment with one word, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"W-why, why did you let me...s-stay h-here?"

Ivan chuckled, leaning down to Alfred's ear, "I could not let me little Amerika sleep in the hallway now, could I?" He breathed, "Who do you think I am?" Using his free hand, Russia twirled a lock of golden blond hair between his fingers.

"You're a b-bastard,...that's...that's w-who..." Alfred breathed, trying to loosen the grip on his throat, "But...why h-here?"

Ivan sneered, removing his hands. In all honesty he had no idea why he brought the blond haired man back into his room. He just did. Avoiding the question he fired his own, "Why did you faint?"

Rubbing his throat and sitting up Alfred replied, "Tired."

"I am not an idiot." Ivan shot back, "Your stomach was growling all through the conference meeting, everybody heard you. And down the corridor where you collapsed, I heard it louder there to." He glared at the other, noticing again at how smaller the other looked. When he had his hand wrapped around America's throat, that to felt thinner. He had strangled Alfred many times in the past but this time more of his hand could wrap around the air passage. It felt more...breakable.

Alfred stood up, ignoring the eyes watching him from behind, "I'm fine. Just hungry that day. Missed lunch didn't I?"

Ivan stood up and grabbed the other's shoulder, feeling the profound shoulder bone between his fingers, and turned him around, "That is not possible," He saw America's jaw clench, "skipping one meal should not make you faint. You are not speaking truth and-"

"Oh for fucks sake shut up!" Alfred shouted catching the other off guard, shoving his chest backwards, causing Russia to fall back a few paces. "Stop invading my mind! You know nothing and it's gonna stay that way! You are Russia and I am America, you know what that means? Sworn enemies! Since when were you so fucking concerned about my private life, huh? So I'm hungry for once! Has your boss suddenly decided to have a go at being 'friendly' with the fat capitalist pig? Try to find his weak spot then full on blow his fucking brains out with atomic bombs and shit when he's not expecting it? Well fuck no cause-"

_Punch!_

America heard it before he felt the blow. He had been too busy shouting profanities from out of nowhere when he didn't see the fist raised in aim. He felt his nose colliding with what felt like an iron hammer, sending him backwards. Now lying on the floor, tasting the blood that was streaming down his mouth he clutched his bleeding nose. The blow would have definitely broken the bones.

"You bastard..."

Russia grabbed America's collar hoisting him back to his feet. All concern over the American's health had now vanished. He ignored the lightness of the other as well, that bastard will get what he deserves. "How dare you, Amerika. How fucking dare you." He used the other hand to pull back at the blond locks, nearly tearing them out of his scalp, to look into his furious purple eyes, "You think that just because you are now suddenly more vulnerable you have nerve to talk to _me_, nation of Russia about what you, a stupid Amerikan, think?"

Alfred continued to glare. The blood flowing freely, dripping down onto Ivan's fist, coating it in a glove of crimson. He refused to show any signs of weakness, mind remembering all of the painful times he had spent with Russia. Wars upon wars, raging through his mind, he could practically hear the screaming in his ears. The spinning in his head had struck once more, especially due to blood loss. _Don't you dare faint, Alfred. Don't you dare look weak again! _

He just wanted to get out. Get out of the grasp and run to his room. Struggling with the last ounce of his strength he managed to raise a fist and slam it into Russia's jaw. The blow loosening the nation's hands, freeing America.

Falling to the floor for a second time he didn't dare spare a moment. Scrabbling back up and bolting it to the door, running. Running down the hall. Running like a coward. Blood still flowing, he was surprised he hadn't fainted yet. He was thankful that he never bothered to lock his door. Turning the handle he flung himself through the entrance. Tears mixed with blood, cascading down his slowly thinning face, "I'm a fucking idiot! Stupid, lazy, fat, fucking asshole!" He screamed into his pillow, coughing up sobs and blood. He felt horrible, disgusted with himself, "No ones gonna l-love me...are they? I'm weak, pathetic and so fucking fat..." And with the question hanging off his lips, Alfred finally passed out, entering the world of make-believe once more.

* * *

He woke up to the taste of iron. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, he winced as he touched his badly bruised nose. He may be a country with fast healing but the lack of nutrition meant that he would have to heal slower than usual. Alfred didn't mind, pain was good. "Yeah, pain is good." he told himself.

Standing up, he made his way to the bathroom, having to clutch at random objects from falling over. Just like a normal hotel his bathroom consisted of a shower, toilet and sink. A full length mirror attached to the left wall. Clenching his jaw he stood in front of it, glaring at his reflection he now hated. His face, covered in blood and his bruised nose made him seem uglier than normal. His eyes, dull and lifeless at the endless thoughts of disappointment, saw only fat underneath the clothes.

Alfred hated himself right now but he had to make sure, even if it meant guilt and regret. He had to make sure that he hadn't put on any weight from last time. Locking the door he stood back as he pulled off his jacket and shirt which were stained red at the collars. His lip had healed from the first time he bit it but as he saw his topless body he could not help but bite it again. This time adding to the blood marked around his mouth and nose, trailing down his chin in a crimson line.

His eyes widened in disbelief:

He was _massive_. Yes, he looked at himself in the mirror everyday but his body looked no where near as huge and disgusting as it did now. His cold hands, sending goosebumps through his skin, trailed over his stomach squeezing at different angles, holding the fat ripples between his fingers. He lifted his arms up and could quite easily see the fat hanging off the end, _If only I could cut it off..._ He thought grimly, _But more blood loss would be bad for my people..._

* * *

Ivan stared in disbelief. Still cradling his jaw he made to sit on the edge of his bed, where America had last been. He knew Alfred had a hard punch but he did feel the tiniest amount of guilt for nearly punching the man's nose off. "I hate you Amerika," he sighed, "for making me feel...guilty," he mumbled the word in disgust. Ivan had never felt guilt towards the other in his life and he had lived a _long _life.

Thinking for a moment, he remembered the laptop in his suitcase which he sometimes used to contact his boss if anything came up and he couldn't get signal on his phone. Balancing the portable computer on his lap and feeling curious he keyed in the words, 'occasionally feeling dizzy or fainting' in the search bar. The results showed symptoms of Vertigo which Russia was sure America did not have and chuckling over the other symptom which was pregnancy - America was definitely _not_ pregnant.

His hands hovered above the keyboard as he thought of something else that the American was showing. Slowly he keyed in a long sentence; 'fainting, lack of appetite and getting thinner.' Pressing the enter key Russia's eyes widened at the results. A few symptoms of Anemia here and there but he knew a country couldn't get illnesses like that unless there was a high case of it within the population. Scrolling down Russia came across a link that spoke about Anorexia Nervosa. Hesitating slightly, he clicked the link:

'Anorexia nervosa, also called anorexia, is a potentially **life-threatening eating disorder** that can be seen as a sense of **self-starvation **and** extreme weight loss.** When a male or female at any age has anorexia nervosa their weight can become so low that their bones can be visible. Too much weight loss in these people can lead to dangerous health problems and eventual **death**. People with anorexia are often hungry but refuse food, usually having intense fears of becoming fat and seeing themselves as fat even when they are thin and slender. They may try to get rid of the imaginary fat by **limiting food intake** and exercising excessively in order to lose weight.'

Symptoms of anorexia nervosa include: fainting and feeling dizzy as well as severe weight loss in appearance which can be heard by the excessive growl and pain in the stomach area.

Re-reading the website's page at least three times, going over the words to make sure he understood them, Russia was worried. If this is what America had then he had no idea what to do. Having suffered starvation through the years of war, Ivan knew what hunger felt like. What he would never have thought was Alfred, the country with one of the best resources for food might have suddenly stopped eating because he thought he was...fat. Russia felt awful. He had never thought someone like Alfred would so that to himself.

Russia then made a mental vow to help America. It felt weird to be helping the man he fought wars against. How moments ago he had punched Alfred in the face, not knowing what was going on. Not even Alfred deserved this much pain. He had to be careful though, America still thought of Russia as the enemy. Even though he technically was, he could at least cure Alfred of this illness; how hard could it be?

First though, he had to sleep. In the morning he will go to Amerika.

And help him.

_**Another chapter! Hope you enjoyed it and thank you for the reviews on the last chapter, they mean a lot! Please continue to review, thank you!**_


	3. Help Will Come To Those In Need

"_**Help Will Come To Those In Need..."**_

It wasn't the first time Alfred had woken up late. Heck, everyday he woke up at least a little later than expected. But this time it was the latest.

He had slept through five alarms each blaring shrieking sirens into his ear but none had been able to wake him. It was only when the obnoxious banging of his door that Alfred's eyes flew open, nearly breaking his back in two as he bolted upright, that he finally realised that he was two hours late for the conference meeting.

"Oi! America! Get the fuck outta bed! It's been two hours you _Blödmann_!"

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Alfred climbed out of bed, smacking his stomach as the rumbling noise filled his ears, "I'm...comin'! Gimme' a sec, 'kay?"

"_Sich beeilen_!"

America, even though he was still tired realised that the man on the other side of the door. Was Prussia. _Ah fuck. As if I haven't had enough recently? _His eyes widening in realisation that his face was still covered in dry blood from the incident that had happened mere hours ago. He could it by the stiffness of this face. "Shit..." He muttered.

"Oi! Hurry up! Can't wait all day!"

"I-I'm coming! Hold on!"

Rushing over to the sink in a sleep-dazed state, Alfred splashed cold water over his mouth and nose. Cursing under his breath as his nose still stung from the harsh impact. Grabbing a towel he dried his face. _That should do it. _He thought.

Opening the door he was greeted with a pair of sly red eyes and an obnoxious grin on the ex-nation's face. America knew that Prussia couldn't care less about him missing the meeting, in fact, he probably thought it was an 'awesome' thing to do. But today, waking up two hours late and missing the conference that he was meant to be talking in, really put a downer on his day.

"Sorry."

"Sorry? _Gott_ America! This is totally badass! Why didn't ya' tell me about your plan on stayin' in late? I would've totally joined you!" His smirk turned into a grin as he smacked Alfred on the shoulder. His grin faltered slightly when the American swayed at the force.

Alfred rolled his blue eyes, "I wasn't supposed to wake up late...just did..." He continued to stare into Gilbert's eyes, feeling slightly uncomfortable when the arm lingered just above his collarbone.

"Y-yeah whatever! England's getting pretty pissed down there and don't even get me started on what _bruder_ is doing!" He turned to look sideways, before whispering in the other's ear, "Russia's also gone schizo. But you would know that anyway. Just sayin' he was threatening on coming up here and bashing your door to pieces but as the awesome me would, I volunteered to go and have probably saved your ass." He stopped whispering and took two paces back grinning, "But you can thank me later. Now get a move on. You have ten minutes. _Wir sehen uns_!" And with that he pranced down the corridor in a full on Prussian-fashion, bashing on all of the doors as he passed.

When Gilbert was out of sight, America slammed the door shut and sunk to his knees, his head resting on the back of the door. "Russia..." He whispered. Closing his eyes he nearly fell back into the depths of sleep before he realised that he literally had ten minutes before the said Russian would tear him to pieces. Alfred knew only a few nations, that included Germany and Italy (who would follow the German anywhere), were really the only countries who actually wanted to go to the meetings. So him not being there would create a riot of selfishness which is something Alfred really didn't want right now.

So getting up and making his way to his portable fridge, which contained only fruit and two bottles of water he picked out an apple and one of the cold bottles. Whilst crunching on the apple he got changed into his usual attire. This time though, he stayed clear of all mirrors, dreading to see his reflection and how fat he was. He continued to chew on the bits of apple at least sixteen times before swallowing, knowing that he would be able to trick his brain into thinking he was full even though he had just eaten a small portion of the apple. Biting down on the red fruit, he held it in between his teeth whilst he wrapped the brown leather belt around his waist. Looping it through the holes around his trousers.

He had always hated belts. More now that he was dieting. They had a tendency to show all of the fat around his stomach and waist, giving off an enlargement of fat around his hips and stomach. He sighed though as he buckled the belt in place.

Taking another bite from his apple, Alfred searched for his jacket, cursing under his breath when he couldn't find it.

"God dammit!" _Crunch_. "I'm already late as it is!" He scowled as he threw his half eaten apple in the bin with as much force as he could to make the metal object rock back and forth at least six times. Giving up on finding his coat he decided that he wouldn't wear his it, even though it made him feel vulnerable without the feeling of something hugging his body.

Checking his face in the mirror for one last time and giving a hesitated smile to his reflection, America headed out the door.

* * *

Alfred wasn't surprised by the commotion he had caused when he entered the conference room. Heck, he even managed to brace and withstand all the angry comments thrown at his face. England was the worst but America could understand that, Arthur wasn't one for a late start as he always arrived ten minutes early.

"Why the hell are you so damn late, you idiot?" He raged, struggling against the prying arms of Francis, "You have no idea how long I've had to withstand _this_!" He pointed an accusing finger at the French nation who just smiled and winked.

"Oh _mon amour_...you know you love this..." He murmured, his hand drifting lower but it was hit back repeatedly, as he just managed to dodge a fist and a yank to his blonde locks.

"I bloody well do not!" England sat down with a red blush dusting over his cheeks while the other just chuckled, sitting down as well. Francis smiled as he linked his hand with the British nation's who grudgingly accepted with a huff.

Alfred smiled sadly as he watched the scene between the two nations. The two always did seem to have a kind of 'love-hate' relationship but America knew it was something much deeper than that. He had watched countless of times, how Arthur would always keep his eyes on Francis when he was talking to another nation and how he would clench his jaw or squeeze his fist under the table when somebody tried to 'flirt' with him. This would be the same for France; always looking out for the other but instead of being subtle he would be slightly more...outspoken about it. He was able to show his jealously more than hiding it. Alfred always thought that their arguments weren't actual arguments or rows but more like a bonding thing. A way to get close to the other without making it too obvious that they loved each other.

"What in God's name did you do to your nose, Alfred?" Arthur's mood quickly changed as he noticed the slight bruising on his former colony's face.

Coming up to touch his nose tentatively Alfred used the best excuse he could think of, "I, er, ran into a wall. A really strong wall."

Both England and France stared wide eyed. "You ran into...a wall?" France repeated, "When?"

America started to panic, "Y'know...like as I hurried to get changed...didn't see where I was goin'...then I just...well...slammed...into...it..." He laughed nervously.

The two didn't say anything after that, seeming to believe him. Alfred sighed and turned around but as he did he came face to face with a pair of auburn coloured eyes. The Italian's face was cheerful as he went to hug Alfred around his waist.

Even though he wasn't the brightest nation in Europe Italy felt that when hugging his friend...there wasn't much to hold of him. He wondered why he felt...different and that he had a bruise on his face. But he heard the conversation with England and France so he didn't ask.

"Ve~ You came! Yay!~"

"Hey Italy..." He returned the hug, "What's wrong?"

"Ve~ You seem...different?" The little Italian cocked his head to the side, taking in the taller man. "Are you okay, ve~?"

Alfred nodded, "'Course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you are very late and you feel...different..."

America clenched his jaw, his heart quickening. _It's alright. It's only Italy...he's just being Italy...just lie!_

"Oh? I do? Nah, I'm good! Honest!" A with that he grinned, relaxing when the Italian grinned as well.

"Yay!"

Changing the topic he asked how Germany was.

"Doitsu? Ve~" The Italian's smile faltered slightly, "Be careful! His in a bit of a _stato d'animo!_"

America blinked, "A what?"

He smiled again, "Stato d'animo!" He then went on tip-toes to whisper, "It means he is a bit moody."

"Ah, 'cause I was late? Okay I'll watch out!" Alfred smiled slightly, rubbing his neck in an awkward fashion. Before the Italian could bound off he quickly asked, "Hey, what's the time?"

"Ve? Oh, I think it's..." He rolled his sleeve up to reveal a slim, pale wrist with a neat red watch wrapped around it. Alfred unconsciously grabbed his own wrist, a pang of jealously hitting him. "It's _mezzogiorno_! Twelve o'clock!"

"'Kay thanks!"

The meeting started once everyone sat down after they had given their final grumble towards Alfred for being extremely late. Germany was the scariest, giving him a warning that if he was _ever _the slightest bit late again, Alfred would be banned from all fast-food restaurants in the next meeting. He nearly laughed in the German's face when he said this. Nobody knew about his diet so not being able to go anywhere with a deep-fat frier inside was fine by him. In fact, he welcomed the warning. He apologised and promised not to do it again, mustering the best sad expression he could.

* * *

The conference finished at 1:30 so it was lunch time. When he stood up and collected the sheets that were given to him on how to stop pollution levels rising, blah, blah, blah, Alfred headed towards the door. He _had _eaten today and really didn't feel like eating again. He was determined to reach his goal weight at the moment so as he was walking down the corridor he stopped at a vending machine in the corner. Alfred stuck his hands down both pockets, fishing out a few coins. Eyes scanning the selection he forced himself to go for the water bottle and not the fizzy stuff that begged him to pick them. He bent down and grabbed the bottle from the compartment.

As he walked down towards the staircase (taking the elevator doesn't burn as many calories), Alfred suddenly felt like he was being watched. He felt vulnerable in just his shirt and trousers, without his jacket it felt colder too. At least he wasn't shivering, that was a good sign but it still felt eerie walking down alone. He had the sudden image of a headless man at the end, holding a knife or something. Alfred grasped the bottle tighter, _It's all in your head Alfie, _he reminded himself, _it's still daylight!_

True as it may be, the corridor was awfully long and seemed never ending. There were the occasional windows dotted along the walls, offering some sort of light but he still felt like he was being followed. He knew he should have come back the way he started but the vending machine wasn't in that area. Deciding that he would go the other way Alfred turned around and ran. Literally ran back down the hall.

He almost collapsed as he came to the end of the hallway. It wasn't even that far! But Alfred still commended himself for running as he had probably burned the calories from the apple. He leant back against the wall, running through things in his mind. He suddenly came back to reality when he realised that he hadn't seen Russia today. Prussia warned him about the large nation but he had seen neither head nor tail of the man. Strange...

"Hmm...maybe he left..." Alfred sighed. He was feeling miserable again. He was alone...again. He closed his eyes and thought about what he should do now. He really should head back to his room but what was the point? He would just sit there, bored. An idea sprang to his mind. The _gym_.

He was about to turn left when he bumped into something. Something hard and strong. Looking up, he nearly gasped. Russia.

"Amerika."

"Russia." Alfred glanced at the Ivan's face, noticing how the bruise on his jaw and gone down. If he was in a stronger state then the bruising would probably still darker and more visible...but it wasn't.

Russia noticed the swelling and bruising of America's nose was still quite visible. He was surprised when the Italy didn't see it. Or maybe he did see it and not question it. He decided to take the polite approach.

"How are you?"

Alfred was taken aback. It was only last night when the two were at each other's faces. Throwing punches and shouting accusing words and now Russia was asking him _how he was_? Maybe he just felt sorry for him but Alfred knew that would never be the case. Ivan was his enemy and yet, America kind of felt the same feeling for Ivan as well...

"Fine. You?" He decided to answer as briefly as possible. The gym wasn't open all day.

"Da. I am good," He paused, "Your nose. I am sorry."

"You what?"

Ivan looked at him confused, "I am sorry. You know English, da?"

"Of course I know English you-" He sighed, "Yes...I know what you said...but _why_?" He pressed.

"Why?" Russia took a step towards the other, blocking him against the wall. He lightly traced a delicate, gloved finger over Alfred's nose, "For doing...this...I am sorry..."

America didn't dare move. His thoughts on being late for the gym, vanished. Russia was being...kind? Careful? It was different and Alfred felt uncomfortable with it, "It's okay." He whispered, "I'm...sorry too..." He didn't like this feeling but he felt he should at least apologise as well.

Ivan smiled but didn't move away, instead took in Alfred's body again. Without his jacket, he could see more of the American's figure. _It was thin_.

"Hey, Ivan?"

"Da." He looked up into those blue eyes but asked without thinking, "What is wrong with you?"

"Huh?" Alfred looked up confused, feeling really awkward. Russia was looking at him weird. He felt the pain strike his stomach again, telling him to eat something. He hoped that Russia wouldn't hear it. Hope wasn't on his side today.

"You are hungry, da?"

He shook his head. _No, no, no, no. I'm fine. Leave me alone! _

Russia frowned, placing a hand on the other's thin shoulder, "Da. You are."

"Shut up. I'm fine. Can you move please?" America glared. _First Russia goes psycho, then he's all uncomfortable and creepy and now he's asking fucking, annoying questions! _

But the other wouldn't move, "_Nyet_. I've noticed how you have been acting, Amerika."

"What are you, a stalker or somethin'?" He tried pushing against the Russian's chest but stopped because he didn't want a repeat of last night. Instead he crossed his arms and looked the other way, away from the violet stare trying to pry answers.

"I am not a stalker, Amerika."

"Are to."

"Am not.

"You are! Just stop changing personalities on me! You go from weird to weirder, to even more stalker weirder!" He hissed.

Ivan shook his head, "That does not make sense."

"You don't make sense!" Alfred jabbed a finger, "What do you want from me?"

"An answer." He quickly responded, "An answer." He repeated.

"Okay. The question?" The American glared. He felt a smug of superiority than Russia. It wasn't an unusual feeling. Ivan was Russian in an English-spoken country. Of course he could feel higher than him!

Russia stared and it wasn't because of the clever response that Amerika had given him. it was because he didn't think he would get this far. Now what was he supposed to say? Hey Amerika, do you have an eating disorder? Are you happy with your body? _Nyet_, he could not say that. That would be awkward and...weird. He had to think but Alfred was getting impatient.

"Well? You pry me for an answer and you haven't even got a question? What is it with you?" Alfred growled. He had had enough of this! So he pushed his way through but was quickly caught by the wrist. "Yes?"

"Let me help you, _da_?"

America's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "What?"

"Will you let me help you?"

_**I'm so so sorry! This chapter was meant to be up at least a week ago! I could give you a thousand excuses as to why but my main one is exams! Oh God how I hate them! Anyway, please enjoy this chapter and I promise the next one will be up next week! Thank you for all of the reviews and I welcome them with open arms!**_


	4. It's Not An Option

"_**It's Not An Option..."**_

"You...you what?!"

Russia growled, his grip on Alfred's wrist tightening, "You heard."

"Yeah but I don't believe it." He too narrowed his eyes. A storm was brewing he could feel it. "You don't give two shits 'bout me."

Ivan chuckled darkly, "You are right. I don't bu-"

"So fuck off then!" Alfred flung his arm back and out of the Russian's firm grip and stormed away, rubbing his wrist in the process which had already begun forming a hand shaped bruise.

He felt the impact before he saw it and was momentarily blinded as his vision went black. He could feel himself falling to the floor as his head pounded with pain, breathing in the scents of old carpet. Alfred scrunched his nose up in disgust and agony. Russia was hovering over him in an instant, his lip curled revealing snow-white teeth.

Russia watched as America's face contorted with pain, as his head throbbed with pain. "Why so weak Amerika?" He growled bending down so that he could feel the other's deep breathing on his face. "Why so...pitiful?"

Alfred glared at the other man, clenching his hand into a fist, "What do you...want from me, you fucked up nation?"

Ivan grit his teeth and yanked the American's blonde locks to force the nation's eyes on his, watching how the long lashes grazed the defined cheekbones, "To help...you." He said in a whisper.

America managed to smirk the tiniest bit, "And why would you want to do...that?"

Russia's grip on the blonde strands tightened, his voice turned into a low, murdering murmur, "Because only _I_ get to hurt you."

Alfred gasped in pain, at the response not because of the fact that his head felt as if it was being yanked off by the Russian's gloved hand but because of what Ivan had just said. "You sick bastard." He swallowed, "Nothing is wrong with me but if there was, how come you want to...help me, when you said that that you were the only one to _hurt_ me?"

"You are making this difficult." He let go of his grasp and America fell to the floor. He shot back up too fast, making him see two Russias instead of one.

"I'm making this...difficult?!" He pointed to himself, his eyes wide with anger, "I'm the one hitting people in the back of the head? Fuck no! That's you! You're fucked up, Russia! Just like you always been!"

Then something stirred within the Russian nation. It wasn't anger, something...different, "I may not be sane, in some cases but I can assure you one thing." He spoke slower, quieter, "I am not the one starving myself."

Just like that, Alfred's breath hitched in his throat. His body felt like led, his mouth went dry. His stomach...still empty. Ivan continued, looking into America's eyes, "I know what it feels like to be hungry, Amerika. My country has suffered many bad things over the centuries of war. You should be lucky as to have so much food."

"You don't understand." The words came out too quiet to be heard.

"Why suffer? Why put your body under so much destruction, that you can barely hit back?"

"You don't understand..."

"You are hurting your people."

Alfred's baby blue eyes widened slightly but then narrowed, "So that's all your really cared about. My people."

Russia shook his head, the anger returning once more, "_Nyet._ Your people are important to you. They help keep you strong but starving yourself? That is selfish and inconsiderate."

"Selfish?!" Alfred stood up straight, holding back the groan of pain as he saw black spots dot his vision, "I never wanted this! I never wanted to feel sick with disgust when I looked at myself in the mirror! I never wanted to feel fat in all my clothes!" The tone in his voice deepened, "I never asked for this. It's not an option. It's my people's fault for making me like this!"

Russia stood up carefully, watching the American closely as he held his head and stomach, he felt the tiniest pang of guilt at the sight, "Your people are who you are." He cocked his head in confusion, "And you are not fat."

Alfred snorted, "Yeah, keep on saying that and I might believe it." His head fell and he closed his eyes, "You will never understand...I just...I just don't want to be me. I don't want to be the country that is known for all the fatty, fast food places! I don't want to be the country containing the highest obesity records! I want to be different! I want to _change_!" He said the last words with force, causing shameful tears to spring in the corner of his eyes.

"Amerika..."

"You don't understand! And you n-never _will_!"

Russia sighed heavily, losing his patience once more, "I may not understand how you are feeling at the moment but-"

"At the moment? This isn't a faze Russia! I can't just snap out of it and be the happy-go lucky guy I once was! It's not easy! You think I haven't tried?!"

"I was not saying that."

"The what were you saying? You're so fucking confusing sometimes!"

Ivan looked down and into the nation's confused and hurt blue eyes, "Do not interrupt me."

"Fine."

He took a deep breath, "You never were and will be fat, Amerika. You may eat or have eaten," He quickly corrected himself, "Fast food but you never were fat and never will be."

"Liar."

"I am _not_ lying! Stupid Amerikan, look at yourself!" He went to grasp the other's waist. His hands practically joining together around the nation's thin frame. Ivan felt sick. Really sick. However, Alfred was writhing in the Russian's grip.

"Get your hands off me, you psychotic Russian!" Alfred curled his fingers around the gloved hands and wrenched them off his waist.

_Doesn't he understand anything? He could kill himself at this rate. Stupid Capitalist._

Raising an arm he grabbed the thin shoulder, grimacing slightly at how bony it felt under his grip. "Eat something."

"Why should I?"

"I can feel your bones and I am wearing gloves! Do you want to get so thin that you die? Your waist...it is so..."

Alfred didn't answer, instead continuing to look straight ahead. He was slightly hopeful at the thought that his bones were that prominent but he couldn't stand the fact that Russia was talking and treating him like this.

"Answer me, Amerika."

"..."

"Answer me!"

Using his good hand and balling it into a fist he swung his arm behind him into Russia's chest, the impact usually knocking the Russian back a few paces. However, Ivan took the attack into hand before he was hit by grabbing holding of the American's fist. Alfred growled under his breath, "Stupid Communist..."

The taller nation sneered, "Not anymore."

Alfred stood on his tip-toes and looked straight into Russia's deep purple eyes. During the Cold War, the only eyes he saw were the ones filled with mockery, spite, anger and hatred. How can a person with such beautiful coloured eyes be filled with such evil? _Stupid question Alfred. It's fucking Russia we're talking about. Not Canada. _

"Once a Communist. Always a Communist."

"Mmm, and once a Capitalist. Always a Capitalist."

"Shit! You can't just use my line but change the words around! Bastard!"

Russia internally groaned. His patience was wearing thin. "You never give up, do you?""

Alfred smiled wryly, "Never."

The two stood in silence for a while, when the grumble of Alfred's stomach broke it. The American groaned at the pain, bending down slightly forgetting that Russia was watching him. His mind was fuzzy from the blow and the black spots had returned in his vision. Taking off his glasses, he backed away to the wall where he rested his head against the cool block. Meanwhile, Ivan stared at Alfred's face. Without the glasses, America looked different.

"You are hungry...again."

"I'm fine. I'll be goin' now."

"You are not fine, _Alfred_!" A hand had gone to his shoulder again, stopping his movement.

Alfred's head wiped up at the use of his name, "You said..."

Ivan's grip on his shoulder tightened, "_Da._ I do know your name. Why? Am I not allowed to call you Alfred?"

The way Ivan said his name, the way the thick Russian accent rolled on in the 'r', sent a shiver up America's spine, "Just...weird. You never call me by my name. Only America."

"Did you know that you had an eating disorder?"

America grimaced, "You make me sound retarded. I don't have a disorder."

"Da. you do. I researched it."

Alfred rolled his eyes, "Yeah okay. Let me guess, the symptons are what I am showing now, yeah?"

"Da."

Alfred sighed, "Let it go, Russia."

"Only if you eat a meal."

"I don't want to eat a fucking meal! Do you know how hard I've tried this body? Ages. A lot of fucking effort has gone into this!"

"Da. But it is making you weaker. Even Italy can see."

Alfred groaned again, hitting his head back on the wall, "I don't care..."

An idea suddenly sprouted in Ivan's mind, "I shall make you a deal, da."

"A deal? What sort of deal? I ain't goin' communist!"

"It is not that type of deal, Amerika. If you let me make you a meal and eat it. I shall not bother you as much. Deal?"

Alfred thought for a moment. He could eat one meal. _One meal wouldn't hurt would it? Then Russia wouldn't bother me. Yeah._

"Okay," he held out his hand and him and Russia shook both saying, "Deal."

Ivan breathed out in relief, letting go of the American's hand, "Good."

As they walked down the corridor Russia thought to himself. In all honesty he hadn't a clue as to why he called the American by his human name. It came out as an accident at first but he liked saying it. He scrunched up his nose at how weird that sounded in his head. _There is no way I am going to start liking Alfr-Amerika. _

He looked at the other through the corner of his eye, noticing how Alfred couldn't walk in a straight line. If Russia didn't know better he would have thought the American was under the influence of alcohol but then he did know better and he knew that Alfred needed food inside of him. A proper meal at least. His blonde hair wasn't has blonde as it usually was, instead losing its golden glow. When the light shined just right, he could see America's figure through the shirt. It made Russia feel sick at how thin the other was getting. _He must really be starving himself._

Without realising what he was doing, Russia gently pulled the other close to him by the shoulders, steadying him as they continued to walk down the corridor.

America looked up confused, "What are you doing?"

"You are not walking straight." He refused to look at the American. Instead, looking straight ahead.

"So...you need to help me? I ain't weak y'know!"

"I know. Just be quiet, Amerika."

"Alfred."

"...Alfred..."

_**I am also sorry if the characters go OOC in some parts. it's just hard for me to write a really mean Russia when he knows that America has an eating disorder. Anyway, next chapter should be up soon, hopefully. Thank you!**_


	5. Blood And Tears

"_**Blood & Tears..."**_

"What. Is _that_?"

"It is your meal."

Alfred scrunched his nose up at the hideous looking 'meal' in his bowl. The bowl was half full of a lumpy, red mixture cradling some kind of green material on the top. The smell was disgusting although it had the aroma of tomato coming from it. Glancing at the two other bowls that were within reaching distance from the main one, Alfred could make out a small roll of bread covered with a light dusting of powder in one dish and a tea-spoon of sour scream in the other.

"Why...why is it _red_? And what's that green stuff on the top?"

"It is Ukrainian meal._ Borscht_."

"Wha'?"

"_Borscht_." When receiving another confused look, Ivan sighed and exclaimed, "_Borscht_ is a soup made up of tomatoes or...er...how do you say it...um...ah...baeetrot?"

"You mean beetroot?" Alfred smirked at Russia's attempt at saying the word. But grimaced as his eyes fell upon the food in front of him.

"_Da_, that. The green things on top are P-...pars_ley_. It is good for you." Russia thought for a moment, "Would you like it warm or cold?"

Alfred coughed slightly, "Ergh..."

"Warm then."

As Russia picked up the bowl and went off to the kitchen part of the small room, Alfred's shoulders fell. "Don't wanna eat it...ugh..." His eyes skimmed the two remaining bowls in front of him. _How many calories are there in bread? Shit, isn't sour cream fattening?! Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

He began clenching his fists under the table, thinking of anything to limit the intake of the...soup? Biting his lips in anxiety Alfred nearly made a run for it when a hand pushed him firmly back into his seat, "We had a deal, Amerika." Russia placed the hot bowl onto the table, "You eat this meal...and I will not bother you much."

Alfred glared into the violet eyes then back at the bowl. Breathing in a large intake of breath the American reached for the spoon, gripping it tightly. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage and small shivers went up his spine.

Russia took the seat opposite America and waited for him to take a sip of the soup. Just by looking at him Russia could tell this was going to harder than he thought. A lot harder.

"Amerika, eat."

"It's hard y'know..."

"I know but you have to try,"

Alfred's head shot up his eyes a mixture of anger and confusion, "You don't know anything!" He pushed the bowl backwards in frustration, "Don't you dare say you know what it's like!"

Taken aback Ivan sat back in silence while Alfred rested his elbows on the table with the spoon dangling from his slim fingers. It was weird how calm Russia was acting. Only moments ago was he punching the back of America's head causing him to fall to the floor but now...now he was different. _Won't take my chances on that one_ Alfred told himself.

Alfred kept his head down, his eyes raised slightly to stare at the Borscht which was churning his insides. The deal was to eat the meal, only that meal. An idea popped into the American's mind, _Maybe if I eat this shit then I will be able to fast until tomorrow lunch time! _

Silently, he grabbed the edge of the bowl with his finger tips, receiving the raised eyebrow look from the man in front of him but Alfred chose to ignore it, "Stupid Commie." He muttered under his breath.

Clenching the spoon tightly, he stirred the spoon into the red liquid. Judging by the texture and the smell, it looked as if it was some kind of tomato soup, only worse.

"Eat it."

Two words. He didn't look at him but Alfred knew Ivan was watching him glare at the bowl and so, with slight hesitation, he scooped a small amount and brought the spoon to his mouth. America's hand started to shake as thoughts of him fat, sweaty and disgusting flooded his mind. _You're going to be fat again. Stupid pig. Can't even handle the temptation to eat. Idiot. Fat. Fat. Fat, American. _

And with that he stuck the spoon in his mouth and swallowed, filling his spoon with more of the soup and then swallowing that too. He repeated the same movements as if in a trance. _Scoop, swallow. Scoop, swallow. Scoop, swallow_. Until nothing was left in the bowl. Ivan watched with wide eyes.

A small burp escaped the American's lips, "D-done. Happy now?" He looked on the verge of tears and that hurt the Russian. But, he ignored the stupid feeling and said,

"_Da_! I am glad you have eaten! It was nice?!"

Receiving the aftertaste that he didn't recognise before, Alfred winced slightly, "Y-yeah, was...great..." Looking to his left, Alfred noticed the bathroom, "Hey? Can I use your bathroom?"

Raising a questioning eyebrow Russia thought that nothing would come to harm with the American in his bathroom, he's been in his bed after all...why not? "_Da_...you know where it is...I shall clean this away..."

"Awesome," scraping back the chair Alfred hurried to the toilet, locking the door behind him and, after pushing the washing hamper as a barricade to the door as well, knelt by the toilet.

He started to shake, that's what caught him off guard. He didn't understand why at first as he had watched hundreds of videos of people doing this sort of thing and had read blogs on easy methods to do it. _Right...it's my first time...that's fine. Come on Alfred!_

Taking in a deep breath and lifting the toilet seat up, he closed his eyes. Thoughts of him back in the day when he was so fat he could barely walk ten paces without going out of breath. Or how his stomach was so big it used to come over his jeans. Alfred gritted his teeth at the memories and tightened his grip on the toilet seat. It takes twenty minutes for food to be digested in the stomach and so he only had a small amount of time to do this.

Slowly, with a shaking hand, America brought his forefinger and middle finger to his mouth and, counting slowly to three:

_1...2...3_

Shoved the two fingers to the back of his throat...and purged...

Russia was washing the dishes when he heard an unusual sound coming from the bathroom. It wasn't a sound to normally come from such a place. With a confused expression, the Russian man placed the wet bowl and spoon on the drying rack and slowly made his way to the locked door. The sounds were louder but came every five to ten seconds.

Hesitantly, he knocked on the door, the sounds froze, "Amerika? Are you okay?"

A muffled response came back.

"Vhat did you say?" He tried moving the door knob but it didn't move...obviously, "Are you stuck?"

Suddenly, he heard a loud thud coming from the other end. This triggered warning signals in Ivan's brain. _Is...is he...okay? _"Amerika if you do not open this door, I shall come in myself!" He shouted.

"...n...-o...don..."

Getting frustrated, he tried moving the doorknob once again, but with a much stronger force, "Amerika, my patience is running out...open door!"

When he was met with no sound, Ivan grit his teeth and literally turned the knob until it came out the door. Throwing it to one side and pushing the hamper he was met with Russia froze.

America, knees to his chest and his head on his them and a fowl smell coming from the toilet. The sight was pitiful.

"Amerika?" Alfred didn't move his head, but scrunched up his eyes, willing himself to just disappear right now. He heard footsteps approach him and could see through the gaps between his legs, Russia's black military boots.

"Did the _Borscht_ make you sick?"

He chuckled, "Something like that..." But then moaned as his head started to throb.

But Russia was having none of it. Grabbing the back of the American's hair, forcing his eyes to meet the penetrating violet ones, Ivan studied the other's face, "...No it didn't...I may be Russian but I know what you did, Amerika. You broke the deal."

"That hurts."

Glaring slightly, but letting go of the blonde locks, Russia glanced at the toilet. Flushing the chain and quickly pouring bleach down it, he then looked back at the American who was still in the same position as he was when he found him.

"Amerika."

"..."

Sighing, he walked out of the bathroom and rummaged through one of his luggage bags. Pulling out a new toothbrush and opening it, he made his way back to Alfred. "Here."

Blue eyes looked up through blonde strands of hair, "Huh?" Noticing the brush in the Russian's hand, he realised it was for him. Without meeting the purple gaze he gently took it.

"Stand up."

"...Don't take orders from a Communist..." Was the muttered reply.

Russia grit his teeth, "You are in my dorm, you will do as I say, _Amerika_."

Alfred's head shot up, his blue eyes a seemingly dull colour, "Sorry? I did as you asked now if you can be so kind as to _move out of my way_, I will kindly take my leave."

"You broke the deal! You chucked it back up, you stupid idiot!" Ivan bellowed. He grabbed Alfred's shirt from his neck and pulled him up. It was easy as the boy weighed less to nothing. He pulled him to the sink, "Look at yourself! Doesn't it make you at least a little _sick_?!"

Alfred glared at the reflection. He seemed so tiny now compared to the Russian. Even though the height difference was only small, America's appearance was ghastly. "Not really, no." He replied with a dead-panned expression, "I still look gross."

"You are kidding me..." He sighed, "Look _closely_."

And America did. He felt vulnerable standing in front of the largest country in the world. He looked at his face and saw the dark eyes and sunken cheeks. His hair was dull and thinning slightly at the edges. The shirt he was wearing showed his prominent collar bones. He shivered and winced as his head throbbed again.

"Well?"

"I don't seem any different." He lied.

Confusion was evident on the Russian's face, "You may be needing new glasses, Amerika." "Doesn't it scare you?"

"Why would I be scared? I'm still me on the inside."

"I don't think you understand," He continued before the other interrupted, "You are killing yourself."

Alfred didn't reply, instead stared at the toothbrush. He felt the other's warm body behind him and he had to will himself not to move back. He found himself becoming increasingly colder nowadays.

"You are shivering."

"You don't say, it's freezing in here." Came the whitty response.

"Brush your teeth."

"No."

"Now, _Alfred_!"

Once again, the American froze when his name escaped the other's lips. He found himself doing as he was told, "Fine!" Gripping the toothbrush with a force that wasn't necessary, he picked up the toothpaste and spread it along the bristles. He started to clean his teeth. Russia watched with a steady gaze as he stood behind the other man, noticing how Alfred didn't look at himself in the mirror. Peering down, he noticed how baggy the shirt was on America's body, and how he could see each of the bumps of the spine. The pain in his stomach returned. Glancing up slightly, Ivan noticed a red colour in the Alfred's hair. The punch was that hard? No, maybe it was hair-dye?

"Done."

He looked up after what had been ages, as Alfred placed the toothbrush on the side of the sink. He nodded, "Прости..."

"What?" Alfred sighed, "You know I don't understand your language, Russia,"

Ivan didn't speak for a while, as he examined America's sunken cheeks and dark eyes. He couldn't believe he actually felt guilty for hitting Alfred. Breathing in a deep breath he asked, "How is your head?"

"My head?" Automatically, America raised his hand wincing when it came into contact with the wound, "G-God. That's some hit you got there!" Bringing his hand back down both America's and Russia's eyes widened:

"_It's still bleeding_!" He cried.

At this Alfred started to panic, "H-hey. This ain't funny. Why am I still bleeding? Surely if the hit was a few hours ago it would have stopped ages before right? You couldn't have hit that hard!"

Ivan just stood there, watching the worry in the blue eyes, looking down at the blood stained hand. He grabbed it and pulled Alfred into the main room. "Sit on the bed." Alfred did as he was told, placing his hand on the back of his head to try and stop the blood escaping any further.

"Why's it still bleeding, Russia?"

Ivan walked back into the bathroom, emerging with a First Aid Kit, "I do not know," He lied. Of course he knew the reason. Alfred hadn't been eating proper meals, therefore his body is weaker.

"Maybe it is because you are not eating as much." He said flatly.

Alfred licked his lips, looking down, "Y-yeah right...that can't be the whole reason! Maybe you hit harder than intended?"

"Trust me, I did not." He sneered, "Turn around,"

America cocked his head to the side, wincing slightly as his head thumped in pain, but turned around anyway.

Ivan bent down and opened the green box, examining the contents; bandages, a pair of scissors, plasters, burn cream, disinfectant wipes and other medical objects. Pulling out a packet of the wipes and removing his gloves, Ivan carefully began wiping the back of the American's head. They sat in silence while he tended to the other's wound. Occasionally, the other would wince but Ivan noticed how he grit his teeth to hide it. The wound wasn't that serious but did require a plaster to protect it. Alfred's hair was longer at the back and so Ivan decided to place a medium sized, square shaped plaster over it. Flattening the hair to hide the material, Russia never realised how soft the other's hair was. "There." His voice cracked.

"...Thanks..." Alfred turned around and felt the back of his head, "It's not noticeable is it?"

"_Nyet_," Ivan packed the contents away, sliding it under his bed, "Your hair hides it."

"Cool," Alfred looked down slightly. He felt sick and his head was still pounding, "Why d'you do it?" He barely whispered.

Ivan stood slowly his mouth in a frown, "Do I need to explain myself to you?"

"I guess not," He looked up into the violet eyes, "I guess I'll be going then." As he stood to leave, Russia placed a hand on his shoulder, "What?"

"At least...try..." Ivan murmured, "You will do yourself good...to eat I mean."

Taking a deep breath, Alfred nodded and walked out the door, leaving Russia alone again. Closing the door behind him, Alfred slowly made his way back to his room, wondering why his heart was beating so fast.

* * *

"Do you think he's alright?"

"Huh?" Francis' head whipped up and looked at the man in front of him. He saw the Brit's chest lower as he emptied a big breath of air.

"Alfred...do you think he's okay?" Arthur whispered.

Francis stood up from the desk he had been working from, folding the papers back into their usual position. He sighed when he saw the concerned expression coming from the Brit's face, "I'm sure he is fine, _cher_. He's a strong boy now."

England frowned, "He may be a strong boy to you but he's still my little lad no matter how tall he gets," He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, "Or annoying and dumb-witted."

Moving away from the desk, France grabbed Arthur's shoulder gently, pulling him into the kitchen, "He seems fine to me. _Thé_?"

"Please..." Arthur said as he sat down at the table, his head in his hands, "I don't know, Francis. He just seems different but I genuinely feel something's wrong with him..."

Francis flicked the kettle on and took out two mugs from the overhead cupboard, placing a tea bag in one and a spoonful of coffee in the other. "Have you tried talking to him since?" Turning around, he made his way over to the Brit, gently pulling his hands over from his face, green eyes looking down at the table, "Look at me."

"..."

"Arthur, look at me, _sil vous plez,_" He brushed the unkempt hair out of the other's face. The green eyes looked back but were slightly red, holding unshed tears. The hands France had been holding onto balled into small fists and he could see England was trying not to cry. Francis felt a pang of guilt run through his veins, he would be in the same state if something was wrong with his son, Canada. _Matthieu...maybe he could help, oui?_

"Arthur...how do you know?"

He released the fists to fall gently to the table, which went straight to the blonde locks as England tried to comb his fingers through it, getting stuck at times. His face contorted into confusion and thought, "I just..._feel_ as if something isn't right...as if he's _not the same_...like normal..."

The Frenchman sighed, "Is this what Italy told you? Because you know he can be funny at-"

"No! It's not just that, Francis!" Green eyes glared into blue but quickly softened as he saw Francis shocked expression, "Sorry...but it's not that. Before we went into the meeting the other day he seemed...off...and how he was late the other day and Prussia went to go get him...it doesn't seem..._right_, I can feel it!"

"He does seem smaller," Francis mused, looking down at the table. He looked up as the kettle was ready but was held down by the smaller nation's hand on his arm.

"What?"

"Alfred," He replied in dead-panned expression, "he looks thinner than normal."

Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "I'm not sure what you're getting at here, Francis."

"Haven't you noticed, _mon cher_? He may not be acting the same to you but I have noticed how he appears to be..._trés mince_..."

"H-how I curse the day I learnt French..." Arthur muttered, "So what you're saying is that my boy is dieting?" Before France could open his mouth England carried on, his grip tightening on the shoulder, "We're talking about the United States of bloody America, Francis! Not Italy, or Spain, or Austria or any other country prone to that sort of behavior! America! This is Alfred the so called 'hero' or whatever bloody name he likes to call himself! He is not dieting! How bloody dare you say that! I-!"

"Arthur!"

England realised that whilst he was shouting he had also been crying and shaking his lover with too much force than necessary. His cheeks turned red as he sniffed and looked down.

"Arthur listen to me! I never said anything about dieting! He may be sick but not mentally! There are so many illnesses in the world!"

"...Maybe you're right...he's probably got a cold or something...b-but..." He faltered, "The look he gave me the other day before the meeting...it was so easy to notice he was faking it..I could tell...his eyes weren't shining...a-and...he had dark circles under them, as if he was drained of energy, France...am...am I doing something wrong? Am I not looking out for my son that only up until now I have noticed something?!"

"On _mon amour_," The Frenchman embraced the crying Englishman, holding him close to his chest while sad but frustrated tears made their way down Arthurs red cheeks, slowly soaking up into the other's shirt, "Shall we go and talk to him? Maybe that would ease your mind...we'll be getting an answer from him and not from your worried thoughts, _oui_?"

He felt the other tense and look up with surprised eyes, "No! No, not yet!"

"_Quoi_? But I-"

"I do not want him to think I am looking after him again. He's a grown boy and would hate for me to be worried about him now. I'll talk to him soon, just not now...okay?'

Francis let himself smile slightly. Silly England and his mood swings, "Whatever you say, _mon cher_." And he wiped the tears from his eyes and planted a soft kiss to the English lips, whispering, "It'll be alright,_ je vous promets_..."

* * *

_**I'm super sorry! That's all I can say! I mean, how many months have I let you guys hang there? Since October I think? October? Man, I am a bad writer! The story is slowly starting to build and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I tried making it longer than normal and I apologise for any grammatical mistakes. Next chapter should be up soon so please bear with me! Thank you for the reviews, they really keep me going!**_


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